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I roll my eyes and grimace when I turn to the mirror. No wonder Shawna could guess what I’d been up to – my lipstick is all smudged. I wonder briefly if I left a pink lipstick stain on his dick. I hope I did.
Shit. I need to focus and get to work fixing my face. I have two more sets. My abandoned bra is lying on my table, no doubt collected by Niall or Liam, and when I peek into my lockbox, there’s a lot of money there. More than I was expecting, even after going topless.
Having the Irish Reaper collect your tips for you with a glower on his face makes men pony up more cash than a flirtatious smile does. That is handy to know.
When I walk out for my next set, Ronan sits at his usual table, right up the front. I don’t want to push my luck with him, so I’ve gone for a lacy teddy, but instead of the ones I usually wear, this one isn’t see-through at the tits.
He nods his approval as I sway my hips and take hold of the pole. Niall is at the bar, sitting next to his wife, Mellie, my best friend, and Liam is seated at the table with Ronan. When I start dancing, Liam suddenly finds his phone the most fascinating thing in the world.
I work through my set, remembering to change the moves. Luckily the beat is similar to my usual song, but it’s still enough of a difference to have me concentrating. Usually, I float my way through the motions. Actually having to think about it makes me think about who is watching me. AboutRonanwatching me. Does everyone here know I had his dick in my mouth earlier?
I move through the tables to collect my tips, suppressing my disappointment that they are significantly lower than usual. It makes sense. They all probably saw Ronan haul my ass out of here earlier.
I’m practically dressed like a nun compared to what the other strippers wear. It’s okay. With three sets, lower tips aren’t too bad, and I cleaned up earlier, thanks to Niall.
When I arrive at Ronan’s table, there’s no money waiting. I wasn’t expecting any. Liam didn’t watch, and Ronan is trying to bankrupt me for some reason. He does slide his hand up the back of my bare thigh, and I fight the urge to shiver with pleasure.
“Liam will drive ye home tonight,leannán.”
I smirk in Liam’s direction while he glares back at me.
Nodding to Ronan that I heard and understood his order, I move to collect the rest of my tips and make my way back to the dressing room. Whatever caused Ronan to disappear earlier was because of something Liam did.
Whenever Liam screws up, he’s the crew bitch, and Ronan gets him to give me lifts home a lot. A perfectly good bus runs from West Boston to Roxbury, but Ronan doesn’t like me being on it. Overprotective asshole.
Liam glowers at me as I strap myself into the front seat of his SUV. I offer him an innocent smile. He doesn’t smile back, scowling and pulling out of the parking lot, heading for Roxbury.
We’re about halfway there when Liam finally breaks his sulky silence.
“Why the fuck do you push him like that?” he snaps.
I glance over at him in surprise. Unlike the rest of Ronan’s crew, Liam Kelly doesn’t have the slightest Irish brogue when he talks. He was born and bred in Boston. Just like me. He’s Ronan’s protégée or something, so I guess it makes sense that he doesn’t like it when I niggle annoyingly at Ronan.
“He’s not the boss of me,” I sigh, shrugging, and glare at him when Liam opens his mouth to point out that Ronan kind ofisactually my boss. “You know what I mean. All the other girls get to go topless, do lap dances and actually make a decent fucking living from their tips. Why the fuck can’t I?”
“You know why,” Liam snaps back. We both lapse into silence. Yeah, I know why.
“That’s not fair,” I grumble. Liam snorts, rolling his eyes.
“Life’snot fair, sweetheart.”
I flip him off. “I’mnotyour sweetheart. Don’t ever fucking call me that again.”
Liam blinks over at me in surprise at the venom in my tone.
“You don’t sound so poisonous when you tellRonanthat you’re not his sweetheart,” he teases. I flip him off again.
“Fuck off, asshole.” Folding my arms, I glare through the windshield. “Or I’ll tell Ronan that you called me sweetheart.’”
Liam shuts up quickly. I might not like the idea that he now knows I actuallylikeRonan calling me that, and my protestations are part of the back and forth dance we’re stuck in the middle of, but Liam knows Ronan will tear him a new asshole for calling me sweetheart.
My fingers close around the door handle when he pulls up at my building, but I stop when Liam grabs my wrist, holding me in position.
“One day, you’re going to push him too far. I don’t think you’ll like the consequences of that.”
I glare at him, tugging my wrist to free it, my voice cold. “I don’t think Ronan would ever hit me. Not even if I really pissed him off.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Liam agrees easily with me. “But that’s not what I meant.”
